Burden Of Sorrow
by Daughter of Thranduil
Summary: Enjolras gets a letter bearing some bad tidings, and he's not sure he'll be able to deal with the grief. But, as ever, Combeferre is there beside him. I know it doesn't sound good but please R&R! CHAPTER NINE UP NOW!
1. Julien Gets A Letter

**Bonjour once again! I wanted to do another Enjolras fic, so this is what appeared. I hope you like it.**

**Btw, I know I am out of canon by giving him siblings, but it provides some nice story opportunites. Bear with me, please.**

**Please review and let me know what you think.**

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CHAPTER ONE - BAD TIDINGS

"That was without a doubt the most boring lecture I have ever had the misfortune to witness!" said Christophe Joly, as he left the university with Etienne Combeferre.

"I think the whole class would agree with you there!" laughed Combeferre in reply, as he pulled on his jacket. "One wonders why Professor Alfonse got into the teaching profession as he seems to detest every student he sets his eyes on!"

"Lucky for him, the majority of our class are quite solemn anyway." grinned Joly, fishing for a handkerchief to blow his nose – which, incidentally, wasn't even running. "But I'd love to see him try to teach some of the law students – Courfeyrac would drive him round the bend in an hour!"

Combeferre laughed. It was true; though he was a law student, Courfeyrac was far from solemn. He saw humour in everything and seemed to spend the majority of his lectures larking around. It was one of the qualities which made him so endearing to his friends.

"That would be amusing!" agreed Combeferre, as they arrived at the door to Joly's lodgings. "Or even more amusing – we could find a way to introduce him to Bahorel!"

Joly burst out laughing, thinking of Sebastien Bahorel – their short-fused friend who would pick a fight with his own shadow. He would be more than a match for their sour tempered teacher. He fumbled in his pocket for his keys.

"We should try to make that happen, _mon ami_!" he chuckled as he opened the door. "Anyway, I'll meet you tomorrow at the library. We can get working on those essays."

"All right, Christophe." replied Combeferre as he set off again. "Have a good evening. I shall see you tomorrow."

Combeferre lived in reasonable proximity to the flat Joly shared with L'Aigle, so he didn't have far to walk. It was a nice spring evening, however, so he continued to stroll at a leisurely pace towards his own lodgings.

After climbing the first set of stairs, Combeferre paused briefly on the landing to chat to Courfeyrac, who shared a flat with Prouvaire on the first floor, before climbing the final set of stairs and arriving at his own door.

When he stepped inside, Combeferre stopped in his tracks in surprise. His best friend, Julien Enjolras, was sitting in the alcove of the window. He didn't even seem to have realised that Combeferre had joined him as his face was buried in his shaking hands.

"Julien?" asked Combeferre worriedly. "Are you feeling all right?" He remembered the last time his stubborn friend had been ill – he'd almost died from trying to hide it!

"What?" Enjolras raised his head and Combeferre was alarmed to see tear-tracks on his friend's pale cheeks. "Oh, I beg your pardon, Etienne. I didn't hear you come in."

"Never mind that!" said Combeferre impatiently. "What's the matter?"

Enjolras fought to blink back tears again. He didn't trust his voice and so settled for gulping instead.

"Julien, I've watched you drive yourself into the ground once," said Combeferre warningly. "Don't think I'll do it again. Talk to me!"

Enjolras's face crumpled and two tears made their way slowly down to his chin.

"I've got to catch the morning coach tomorrow." he choked. "I have to go home."

"Home?" repeated Combeferre in alarm. "You don't mean to say your father is taking you away from the university?" He had threatened to do that once before.

"No…" Enjolras shook his head sadly. "It's worse than that."

"Worse? How could it possibly be worse?" Combeferre's heart almost stopped beating. "Julian, for the love of God, will you tell me what's the matter?"

"I've had a letter from René." said Enjolras, angrily scrubbing the tears away from his face. "It's…it's Christine. She's dying."

"Dying?" repeated Combeferre, feeling the colour drain from his face. Christine was the youngest of the Enjolras siblings; she was only fourteen. "Why? How?"

"Appendicitis." Enjolras could hardly manage to get the word out. "He…he said she's been ill for the last month. They've tried everything, but to no avail. They've given her…oh God, Etienne, they've given her less than a week!"

Combeferre was speechless. He knew how fond Enjolras was of his youngest sister. This was an especially cruel blow.

"I'll come with you if you want." he offered gently. "It's a long journey for you to make on your own with such bad tidings hanging over you. You need a friend at a time like this."

_And I should be there for the funeral,_ he thought sadly, but he couldn't bear to voice the words; seeing the turmoil that already raged in his friend's blue eyes.

"I…I must confess I would be grateful of the company." said Enjolras quietly. "As long as you are not inconveniencing yourself as regards your studies."

"Not at all." said Combeferre firmly. "Christophe will lend me his notes when I return and I can continue to work on my essay when I accompany you. I haven't seen my parents in a while and you shouldn't have to do this alone."

"Thank you." whispered Enjolras, his eyes brimming over as he ducked his head to hide his face again.

"I'm your friend, Julien. It's the least I can do." said Combeferre softly before heading for the door again. "Please, try and eat something, will you; you look half-dead. I will be back shortly. I'll just let Christophe know we're leaving in the morning."

And in a flash, he was gone again.

Enjolras leant back against the window and gave into his tears, glad he was alone to shed them. He hated appearing 'weak' in front of anyone else.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Oh dear God, that's all he needs!" sighed Joly sympathetically. "He's already lost one brother, now his sister too! Don't worry, you can get all my notes when you return. Don't rush back."

"Look after him." said Prouvaire softly, who had come over to help L'Aigle with. "You know what he's like. He'll make out he's coping while he tears himself apart. Don't let him hide his grief."

"I won't." promised Combeferre. "I know what to expect. I was there when his brother died. It's his family who'll make it difficult for him. Especially his father. But I'll keep an eye on him, I promise."

"All right then." said Joly, clapping his shoulder. "Safe journey, and don't let him do anything rash!"

To be continued...

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**Yes, it's another sad story. Now I have to decide on an ending, as I have three possible plots in mind. Any preference?**

**Reviews would be much appreciated.**


	2. Home again

**Thanks for the reviews. Keep them coming please!**

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The next morning, after a sleepless night for both of them, Enjolras and Combeferre caught the coach out of Paris and east into the country, where both their neighbouring family estates were located.

Enjolras was silent for the majority of the journey. He spent his time gazing out of the coach window with unfocused eyes, savagely biting his bottom lip and absently toying with his hair.

Combeferre, predicting this turn of events, had brought a novel with him. He and Enjolras had been inseparable since they were children and as a result he could read his friend just like a book. He knew that the blond wanted to be left alone to his thoughts for a while, so they rode in a tense, but companionable silence for the most part. However, from time to time, Combeferre reached out to grasp Enjolras's hand or squeeze his shoulder. Enjolras would return the gesture with a watery smile, glad of the unspoken support.

Generally, Enjolras hated having to having to go home. He was constantly criticised and put down by his bourgeoisie father, who looked down on his youngest son's radical beliefs. His mother had no affection for anything but her public image and she simply agreed empty-headedly with everything his father said.

This time, Enjolras was dreading going home even more than usual. As well as having to face his father and vindictive brothers Louis and Antoine, he was going to have to say goodbye to Christine too – one of the only members of his family that he actually loved. He wasn't sure he could deal with it.

The journey took most of the morning, and the sun was high in the sky before they arrived at the town that was two miles from their family estates. They were grateful to finally be able to stretch their stiff legs and be out in the fresh air once more.

"Shall we just walk up to the house?" asked Combeferre, as they shouldered their bags.

"Yes." answered Enjolras, shaking his hair back. "I think my legs would prefer it and I could do with the air. How about you?"

"The same." said Combeferre and they set off together in the direction of the woods. They made quick work of the paths they had run along as children and were soon deep in the middle of the old trees.

"Etienne?" asked Enjolras quietly, hating the uncertainty in his voice.

"Yes?"

"Isn't there any cure for appendicitis? I don't know anything about medicine. René said they had tried everything but…" his voice trailed off sadly.

"I'm afraid there is no known cure at the moment." said Combeferre gently, touching his shoulder. "They can try and bring her temperature down, they can sedate her, they can give her medicine to keep sustained, but otherwise they can only let it run its course. I'm sorry, Julien, I wish I could say more, but there is no point in getting your hopes up. There is talk of an operation to remove the appendix altogether, but it will be years before the research is completed."

"Thank you." Enjolras sighed, lowering his head sadly. "God, Etienne, I don't want to do this! I hate being in that house, this is going to be even worse than usual!"

"You'll manage, Julien." said Combeferre, tightening the pressure on his shoulder. "Remember, I'll be right beside you every step."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

They stepped through the main door and walked into the large grand hall.

"Julien! It's about time, _petit_, I was getting worried!" called a deep voice, as a blond figure rushed down the stairs.

"_Bonjour, _René_."_ replied Enjolras, as he was pulled into an embrace by his eldest brother. René was twenty-nine – ten years Julien's senior – and, while he had not the revolutionary mind of his youngest brother, he was not cold-hearted and arrogant like the rest of the family either. As a result, the eldest and the youngest of the Enjolras brothers got on very well and were quite close.

They both had the same pale skin, sculpted features, blond hair and bright blue eyes but they were the complete opposite in build. René was about half a head taller than his brother and was broad and well-muscled, while Julien was slim and slender.

"Etienne. It is good to see you again." said René, turning to shake the hand of his brother's friend. Combeferre returned the sentiments warmly, noticing how tired and strained Julien's eldest brother looked. "It was good of you to come with him."

"That's what friends are for." replied Combeferre with his usual gentle tone, while, next to him, Julien seemed almost beside himself with impatience and anxiety.

"How is she, René?" he asked urgently. "Can I see her?"

"She's in a bad way, _petit_." sighed René. "And she's getting worse. Etienne, your father is with her now, but we don't think it's going to be very long."

Julien shut his eyes against the sting of tears and René put his arm around his brother as he led the way upstairs.

"Isn't…isn't there anything you can do for her, René?" asked Julien fearfully, sounding like a lost little seven year old to his protective older brother.

"Julien, I wish there _was_ something I could do!" said René fervently, squeezing his brother tighter. "But she hasn't responded to any of the drugs we gave her. I came straight here from Marseille when Papa let me know she was ill, but we haven't been able to do anything for her."

Julien nodded despondently, knowing that his brother – one of the best surgeons in France – would have done all in his power to save his sister if he could.

"How long has she got?" he asked quietly.

"Three or four days, perhaps." whispered René. "A week at the very most. I'm sorry Julien, but there is nothing else we can do."

Julien blinked his tears back fiercely, as Combeferre squeezed his arm on the other side. Together, they approached the door to Christine's bedroom and the two students waited apprehensively while René pushed the door open silently and stepped inside.

They followed him quietly into the bright room, where they found a familiar brown-headed figure packing several medical implements back into a doctor's bag. He looked up at smiled at the three young men who entered.

"_Bonjour_ Papa." smiled Combeferre, going to embrace him.

"You look well, Etienne." said Dr Combeferre, holding his son back to get a decent look at him. "It is good to see you again. I wish it was in happier circumstances, though."

Etienne nodded sadly and turned to look at the young girl lying in the bed. He barely recognised her.

Christine Enjolras had always been a pretty girl and her face had glowed with health and high spirits. Now her young face was gaunt and horrifically pale, and it was evident that she had lost much of her already slender figure. Her blond ringlets were clinging to her neck and forehead and her face was glistening with perspiration.

Julien swallowed hard. His beloved brother Nicolas had looked like this, a few years ago before he had succumbed to pneumonia and passed away. Seeing his sister look like this brought back painful memories and filled him with dread. The small hope inside him, that somehow there had been a mistake and Christine was going to live, died instantly.

Suddenly, her eyes flickered open and a weak smile crossed her face as she noticed the figure seated next to her bed.

"Julien!" she breathed happily. "You came!"

"Of course I came!" her brother reached out to hold her hand. "You know I'll come any time you need me, _ma petite_." He deliberately spoke in the future tense as he didn't want to alarm her.

"Hello Etienne!" Christine gasped in surprise, smiling shyly as she suddenly noticed the third young man in the room. She had always had a special fondness for her brother's handsome, gentle friend.

"Hello there, Christine." answered Combeferre softly, crossing to stand beside Julien. "I noticed you've got plenty birds' nest in the woods." He tried to keep the conversation on everyday things and not on her illness.

"Yes, there were dozens of chicks this year!" Christine smiled, despite the evident pain she was in. René moved to clean the sweat from her forehead with a damp flannel. "You should see the ones in the oak in the garden."

She groaned as a spasm of pain shot through her and tired to draw her knees into her stomach to ease the pain.

"Easy, sweetheart, lie still." admonished René, brushing her hair back. "I'll get you something to calm the pain." Christine nodded quietly and looked back over at Julien, squeezing his hand tightly.

"I'm so glad you came!" she smiled, her breathing heavy and laboured. "The house is so unpleasant when you're away. How long are you staying?"

"Well…for a while anyway, Christine." answered Julien evasively, suddenly realising that his sister had no idea of the severity of her illness. "I'll stay as long as I can."

Christine smiled, sinking back onto her pillows and drifting into sleep once more, comforted by the thought that her favourite brother was home again. Julien sighed despondently, gently rubbing her hand between both of his.

"Hold on Christine, please." he pleaded in a murmur. "Please hold on. It's too soon!"

Suddenly, the door swung open again and a cold disdainful voice floated across the room.

"So, you're back again, are you?"


	3. Rozencrantz and Guildenstern

**Thanks for the reviews, I appreciate them. This is not a very long chapter but I hope you like it.**

**Once again, just to say that I do know it is out of canon to give Enjy brothers and sisters, but I couldn't resist the story opportunity I had here.**

**Also, I'm referring to most people by their Christian names in this chapter. I thought with four Enjys and two Combeferres, it would all get rather confusing using the surnames.**

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Julien's head snapped up and his face immediately transformed into a scowl that was usually only reserved for royalists and Grantaire. He quickly got to his feet and spun to face the newest arrival in the room; a slim, well-dressed young man with dusky gold hair – older than himself and Combeferre, but younger than René.

"So it would appear." Julien said, his voice cold and precise, contempt radiating from his pale blue eyes. He stood ramrod straight with his arms pinned at his sides, as if to prevent himself from suddenly desiring to throttle his brother.

"My, aren't we unpleasant?" smirked the newcomer. "I rather think your manners are suffering, little brother, from the influence all the penniless, uneducated riffraff you associate with in Paris."

"Stop it Louis!" snapped René, seeing Julien clench his fists angrily. René had grown up watching Louis and Antoine bullying Julien and their late brother Nicolas into losing their tempers – and it had always been Julien and Nicolas who were punished, for their father favoured Louis and Antoine above all his other children.

Julien's stay here was going to be unpleasant as it was, and the last thing René wanted was his for his youngest brother to suffer at the hands of his father for the duration of the visit because he'd reacted to his brother's baiting. He glared at Louis, who simply smiled back in reply.

"Uneducated maybe, but I've yet to meet one who's as brainless as you are!" snapped Julien angrily. Louis's eyes glinted maliciously.

"Temper temper, _petit_!" he chided smoothly, using the pet name as an insult. "Do think you're too big for me to teach you a lesson!"

"Can't you go and prattle somewhere else?" demanded Julien coldly. "Christine is asleep."

"Oh don't you bloody start!" Louis rolled his eyes. "That's all I've heard from René all week! Don't talk so loud, don't slam the door, Christine is asleep! I'm sick of it! If you ask me, she is just over-acting!"

"Stop acting like a five year old!" snapped René. "She's very ill and you're not helping. Go and find something else to do!"

"I suppose I can go and inform Papa that my _errant_ little brother has arrived, since he has not had the manners to do it himself!" sneered Louis. "I'm sure he'll be very pleased witheverything you're picking up in Paris, Julien!"

"Can't be any worse than the arrogance one picks up here!" replied Julien icily, only keeping his rage intact by the knowledge that Christine was sleeping fitfully not two feet away from him.

"Julien!" warned René, glad to see that Etienne had moved close enough to grab his brother, should he suddenly decide to launch himself at Louis.

Luckily, at that moment, Dr Combeferre came back into the room – having gone to make up the pain reliever that René had promised Christine.

He at once sensed the tension in the room. He was a friend and associate of Monsieur Enjolras's and lived on the neighbouring estate. As a result, he'd known all seven of the Enjolras children – René, Antoine, Louis, Marie, Nicolas, Julien and Christine – as they grew up. He was well aware of the intense dislike between Antoine, Louis and their youngest brother and he knew that the glaresJulienand Louiswere shooting each other now were only going to lead to an argument.

"I'm going to have to ask the three of you to leave now." he said, in the gentle tone that was so like his son's. "René and I are going to give her that pain reliever, and then we need to have another look at the swelling in her abdomen. She does not need you three standing gawping at her. Go on, off with you."

Obediently, Julien and Etienne got to their feet and headed for the door; Julien pausing only to press a gentle kiss to Christine's forehead. Louis threw the doctor petulant glance (looking out of place on the face of a twenty-three year old) but did not protest. Even he did not quite dare to cheek his father's friend. He followed Julien and Etienne out of the room and René shut the door behind them.

"I'm going to put my things in my room." Julien said to Etienne, purposefully ignoring his elder brother. "I'll show to yours too, if you like, though I'm sure you remember the way."

Combeferre nodded and the two of them were about to start of down the richly decorated corridor when they were suddenly joined by another slim, tall young man with dull blonde hair. He and Louis would have passed for identical twins, had it not been for the dimple in the newcomer's cheek.

"There you are, Louis. Papa was wondering if…oh." The newcomer stopped short at the sight of the two young men behind Louis and Combeferre got ready to grab hold of Julien if need be.

_Wonderful, just wonderful!_ thought Julien despairingly. _Two down and only one to go_.

"Julien." said the newcomer, with a sneering nod.

"Antoine." replied Julien coldly and Louis burst into another vile grin.

"You will not believe, Antoine, the saucy impertinence that the runt of the litter has been picking up in Paris; mixing with the scum of the streets." he told his mirror image. "He is getting quite above his station!"

"Indeed?" asked Antoine, imperiously raising an eyebrow. "Perhaps we need to remind the runt that we are still capable of thrashing the hide off him, no matter how tall he grows!"

Fire began to ignite in Julien's eyes and he clenched his fists, wanting nothing more than to slam them into Antoine's face.

_Stay calm Julien!_ he told himself sternly. _You have more dignity than this!_

"Come on Etienne." he said airily. "Let us leave Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to their musings."

Etienne bit back a chuckle and turned again to accompany his friend along the corridor, when they heard Antoine ask Louis:

"How is our burdensome little invalid?"

"Just the same." snickered Louis, gesturing to the closed door. "Dear René is hovering by like a guardian angel to the whining brat. All these damned melodramatics. Don't you wish the malingering little thing would just hurry up and die and get it over with?"

"You bastard!"

Etienne moved like lightening to try and seize his friend by the back of his waistcoat, but it was too late. Julien pulled himself free of the hold and brought his brother to the floor with a single punch.

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**Fiesty Enjy, don't you just love him?**


	4. An Interlude

**Thanks to all those who reviewed the previous chapter.**

**This chapter is not very dynamic, I know, but I'm using it as a sort of 'moving along' chapter. As you'll see at the end, the interesting stuff is about to begin soon.**

**Anyways, I would still really appreciate it if you would let me know your opinion.**

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"You jumped-up little bugger!" Antoine backhanded his little brother across the face and shoved him savagely against the wall. Julien's eyes flashed and he lashed out angrily, striking his sneering brother in the stomach, eliciting a grunt and another curse.

Louis leapt to his feet again and grabbed Julien's face, hollowing his cheeks and squeezing cruelly, while Antoine reached for Julien's throat. Furiously, Etienne grabbed him and began to pull him off, when they were all disturbed by the door shutting and a loud, furious voice.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Rene!" Antoine straightened quickly, letting go of the scarlet-faced Julien. However much he wished to deny it, he was afraid of his eldest brother.

"For Christ's sake!" spat Rene. "If you _have _to squabble like infants, can you do it elsewhere? God, we're having a difficult time getting Christine to sleep as it is. I don't need you four yelling and banging about outside her door! What's all this about?"

Rene managed to discern the story bit by bit from the tumult of angry voices that suddenly fell upon him. He glared at them all, looking very much like his father – though he'd only have frowned the more if anyone had told him so.

"For crying out loud!" he snapped, after they explained. "I thought you'd all grown out of this. We don't need this right now. The family is going to have enough to deal with without you lot carrying on like this. Antoine, wipe that sneer off your face and go and tell Papa that I will not be coming to dinner. Christine's temperature is rising again and Dr Combeferre and I have been forced to sedate her. I want to monitor her breathing. Louis, stop being so bloody insensitive. If you've nothing useful to say, then bugger off downstairs!"

Growling mutinously, the identical brothers turned and stalked down the corridor. Rene turned to Julien with a look of fond exasperation.

"I know they are bastards, _petit_, but try and keep that temper of yours under check, will you?" he said scoldingly. "This week is going to be hard enough; I don't want Papa coming down on you, too. And you know what he's like – he'll go for you as soon as you give him the slightest excuse."

"All right. I'm sorry I lost my head. Thanks for trying to help me, Etienne." Julien smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry I paid no attention!"

"It's all right." chuckled Combeferre. "I'm used to it. I grew up with you, remember? My reflexes are just a little slower with lack of practise. You don't usually throw yourself into fights these days, not even with Grantaire!"

"I despair of the lot of you!" sighed Rene, flashing a smile of genuine fondness at his younger brother. "Why am I the only sane being this family has produced?"

"Will you call me if she…I mean, it she gets…" asked Julien pleadingly.

"I will. I promise." Rene patted his shoulder. "Now go and chuck your things in your room, stay with Etienne and _don't _go near the terrible twosome!"

The young friends smiled, and then went on their way.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Etienne had always slept in the room next to Julien's whenever he had stayed in the house, so he was familiar with the layout of the room and where to put his things. He gave his face a quick wash and then stepped next door to find Julien lying listlessly upon his bed, gazing unseeingly at the roof.

"Penny for your thoughts." he said, sitting down on the bed beside him. Julien looked up and smiled sadly.

"I don't know, I suppose I hoped they'd made a mistake, that she wasn't going to…" his voice trembled. "She looks so small and frail!"

"I know. I barely recognised her." Etienne murmured. "But they've tried all they can, Julien. It's in God's hands now."

"And Louis, the bastard, wishing she was dead!" said Julien, anger clear in his voice. "If he says that again, I swear to God I'll wring his neck."

"Leave the fighting to Bahorel, _mon ami_, or else Rene will have your hide." chuckled Etienne. "I promise, I'll try and hold you back more successfully if it does come to that. I haven't seen Marie, isn't she here yet?"

"No, Rene said she couldn't leave the baby." replied Julien. His elder sister had given birth only six months ago, in Lyon, and the journey would have been too much for the little one.

"What about Rene's children?" asked Etienne, thinking of the high-spirited four-year-old twins, Audric and Darcel, he'd met on his last stay.

"They stayed with Sylvie in Marseille." Julien replied, seeing through Etienne's attempt to keep his mind off his sister. "It's probably best like that. They're a bit young to be…you know…at a funeral."

Etienne blinked. It was the first time, since reading the letter, Julien had actually said the words out loud. He reached out to give him a one-armed comforting hug, when there was suddenly a knock on the door. Julien's face became a mask again.

"Come in!" he called, getting to his feet. He broke into a smile as he recognised the maid who slipped timidly inside. "Hello Yvette."

"Welcome back, master Julien." the young maid bobbed a curtsey, blushing furiously. She'd always had a fancy for her master's handsome youngest son. "Your father asked me to inform you that he expects to see you in the dining room at seven o'clock."

"We'll be there." replied Julien pleasantly, and Yvette slipped back out again.

"You better do something with that lip of yours before you go downstairs." said Etienne wryly, looking at the blood that was gleaming crimson at the corner of his friend's lips; where Antoine had hit him. "Come here, and let me have a look at you."

Julien sat still as he could while Etienne dabbed at his lip and tidied it up, though he couldn't help but recoil at the sting of the cold water. Even after the young medical student's ministrations, the swelling on his lip would still show when he went to the dining room tonight.

"And Joly told me to look after you!" Etienne chuckled.

"Look after me?" replied Julien in surprise. "God almighty, Etienne, I'm nineteen! I don't need to be protected. I'm more than capable of standing up for myself."

"I'm sure Louis can attest to that!" grinned Etienne. "I know, Julien, of course I know you can stand up for yourself. But you know what Christophe's like."

"I do." smiled Julien, but even then the smile wouldn't stay on his face for long. Etienne sighed, wishing that there was a way to cheer him up, but he knew it was impossible. He also knew that the day was only going to get worse as time went on.

They spent the remainder of the afternoon together in Julien's bedroom. Etienne got to work on his essay, with the intention of asking his father to check it over before they left, and Julien lay back on his bed, looking stricken but saying nothing, as he brooded on the loss that was about to befall his family.

Neither of the two was very keen to attend the evening meal. Julien hated his parents and the way they constantly tried to demean him. He also knew that Louis and Antoine would try their hardest to goad him into another display of temper. He was determined to fall for the bait.

Etienne was not looking forward to it either. He knew what to expect; he and Julien had been bullied by Antoine all the time when they were little. He also knew that Julien's short fuse got considerably shorter whenever he was around his brothers, which was not good news when they were going to be around his cold-hearted father, who would delight in any opportunity to persecute his youngest son.

"Please try and keep calm tonight, Julien." Etienne begged, as began to get ready. It was for Julien, and only Julien's sake only, that he made this plea. He remembered many of downright cruel comments that Monsieur Enjolras had directed at his son over the years and he knew, that despite Julien's assertions to the contrary, they deeply hurt him. He knew that his friend had enough emotional turmoil to deal with already, with his sister's imminent death. He had no wish for him to add to the burden of sorrow.

Despite their unwillingness, when seven o'clock came, Julien and Etienne proceeded down the stairs, bathed and dressed and as neat as possible. They got to the doors, then paused instinctively, listening to Antoine's affected, sneering voice and Louis's clueless laughter from inside the room.

"For what we are about to receive…" muttered Julien sarcastically, and they stepped inside.


	5. An Unpleasant Meal

**I'm extremely sorry for the huge delay, but I've had a lot of trouble uploading to my account. Thanks for the reviews. Keep them coming please.**

It was without a doubt the most unpleasant meal either of the boys had ever attended. Without the presence of René and Christine, Julien found himself very much outnumbered and set upon by the rest of his family.

From the moment they took their seats, Julien felt his father's eyes derisively burn him, lingering on his swollen lip. With satisfaction, he noticed that he had managed to give Louis a fine bruise, though of course that would never be mentioned.

"I trust you are not wasting your time in Paris, Julien." his father snapped abruptly, startling the young man. "I had my doubts about sending you there. You'd better be giving your studies every consideration."

"Of course I am!" Julien replied tensely, meeting his father's cold blue stare.

"I'm surprised you're managing to fit them in, with all the time you must spend associating with the dregs of the gutter!" sniggered Antoine.

"Shut up!" Julien replied icily.

"Enough Julien! Evidently you have failed to mature or to improve your manners while you've been away! You mind your tongue, my boy, or I shall make you regret it very much indeed!" Julien fairly simmered at the unfairness of this, but wisely kepy silent.

Etienne felt nervous and uncomfortable. Had they been alone with Julien's brothers, he would have had no hesitation in retorting sarcastically to the way they sniggered at the class of people their little brother associated with in Paris. However, Julien's parents were present and M. Enjolras was his own father's oldest friend, so he resolved to be nothing but polite unless circumstances really did demand otherwise.

Looking over at Julien, who was sitting opposite him, he realised that his friend was not eating much. He also looked even paler than usual. Etienne was astute enough to realise that most of this paleness was caused by anger at the scornful questions being thrown at him from all angles, demanding to know what his friends did and what class they were.

"I've read the letters you sent to Christine, Julien." his mother informed him, as Etienne watched Julien flush darkly with suppressed fury. "You certainly seem to be mixing with a low bunch. That boy...what was his name?...Christophe. He is certainly not the type of person we'd want you to mix with. He seems very badly brought up."

"I'm surprised to hear you say that." said Julien evenly. "He's the son of Jean-Claude Joly, who works for the government." He knew that this was a fact Joly was not particularly proud of, but he couldn't resist mentioning it to see look of floundered shock on his mother's face. Etienne bit down a chuckle. This only served to show how shallow his friend's parents really were.

They went on to pass judgement on many of their friends. Courfeyrac did not seem to be very sensible, Bahorel would undoubtedly end up a drunk, Feuilly was too common to mention…Julien clenched his fists under the table and fought to remain calm. He had told Christine about his friends because he knew she would like them. He had _not _sent the letters home so his parents could scorn them.

He wanted nothing more than to give into his fury and tell his father and his brothers what he thought of them – as he had on several occasions before, and been severely chastised for it– but he was terrified that his father might throw him out and thus prevent him from saying goodbye to Christine. That would be a harsher punishment than any thrashing. So for now, he bit his tongue and thought of something else.

Etienne meanwhile, was musing on the contrast between Enjolras's father and his own. The first thing Dr Combeferre had done was embrace him and ask how his studies were going, while M. Enjolras had not even let his youngest son take his seat before he started hurling scornful comments at him.

But it had always been the case. Even when they were little boys, Julien had never had much love directed at him. While Etienne's father sent for him in the evening, after he had finished his rounds, and spent an hour reading to him before bedtime, Julien was simply handed over to his tutor and sent upstairs without so much as a 'goodnight'. When Julien's brother Nicholas had died, Dr Combeferre had hugged his son and told him that it was all right to weep, while M. Enjolras had scolded Julien for shedding tears and gone out of his way to heap spiteful criticisms on the already distressed young child.

Similarly, when they had gotten into one of their notorious childhood scrapes, Etienne's punishment had been a stern scolding and then he had been sent to bed, while poor Julien – who had usually followed Etienne and Nicholas into the mischief – was turned over his father's knee and soundly thrashed. The contrast seemed brutally unfair to Etienne, and he privately thought that it was this treatment which had made his best friend into the solemn, quiet, determined character the Amis now knew.

"What's the matter, _petit_?" sneered Louis. "Is the food too sophisticated for you, after dining in the commonest cafés of Paris?"

"I'm not very hungry." answered Julien quietly, pushing the food around the plate in front of him.

"Well if you're used to eating that little, it's no wonder you look about fifteen years old instead of nineteen!" sneered his father, causing Julien to blush a rosy red. Etienne sighed, furious on his friend's behalf, and wished that the meal would end soon.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It was a great relief to the pair of them when they were finally permitted to leave the dining room and return upstairs. Louis and Antoine accompanied their parents through to the parlour, but neither Julien nor Etienne had any wish to join them.

They headed straight for Christine's room as soon they climbed the stairs. She was sleeping again, sedated, but they could hear from the doorway that her breathing was shallow and wheezy.

René was sitting at her elbow, silently stroking her bright blond curls, while Dr Combeferre was packing his instruments into his bag as quietly as he could.

"How is she?" whispered Julien from the doorway, causing his brother and Dr Combeferre to look up, startled.

"Not good." replied René sadly. "She's restless and sore, and her temperature is slowly getting higher. I…I don't think she's got long, Julien."

"What?" Julien's face drained of the little colour it had. "I thought you said she had a few days!"

"We thought she might last a little longer." said Rene, standing up to wrap an arm around his stoic younger brother. "And half of me wishes that she will. But the other half…Julien she's in so much pain. You must have seen it earlier. I just want her to be at peace."

"Your brother is right, Julien." said Dr Combeferre gravely, as he put on his jacket. "Though part of us wishes to hold on to her, we must be willing to accept that this is the road which is best for her, regardless of how much pain it causes us."

He turned to his son, who was watching this exchange sadly; compassion radiating from his warm brown eyes.

"I am off now, Etienne." he said, stepping forward to embrace his son. "I trust you will be all right here."

"Of course I will, Papa." said Etienne, though he was unable to summon a smile.

"Look after Julien." his father whispered in his ear, then ruffled his hair. "I shall see you tomorrow."

"I will. Goodnight Papa." called Etienne softly, as his father exited the room. "Tell the girls and Maman that I will come to see them before we return to Paris."

And suddenly, Dr Combeferre was gone and the room was far too quiet. Christine's shallow, painful breathing was the only sound that could be heard, as they sat like three statues, and simply waited for the tragedy that they knew was going to happen.


	6. Tragedy Strikes

CHAPTER 6 - TRAGEDY STRIKES

The wait was tense and silent. All three young men knew what was going to happen, yet none of them could bear to voice it. They simply sat there, watching Christine's chest rise and fall, terrified that it would stop moving at any minute.

Four hours into their vigil, Christine began to struggle for breath. She was conscious, for her eyes were suddenly wide and alert and full of pain. She groaned and cried in agony, clutching at her stomach in vain. She was shaking violently. René and Etienne both went white; recognising by the shallow breaths that she had very little time left.

"Julien! Julien!" she sobbed, reaching for her brother's hand. Julien moved to her side and gathered her in his arms, letting her rest her head upon his shoulder.

"Oh Julien, it hurts so badly!" she sobbed. "Don't leave! Please don't leave me!"

"It's alright Christine!" he replied, his voice far from steady. "Ssssh, it's alright. I'm not going anywhere! I'll stay here as long as you need me to! Just breathe for me, please! Keep breathing!"

"It hurts so much!" she whimpered, clinging to him fervently. "I can't bear it!"

Julien cast troubled ice-blue eyes to his older brother. René shook his head sadly. He couldn't put anymore sedatives into Christine's system. It would simply be too much for her and her heart would give up! And while he hated to see his sister in pain, he simply could not speed up her passing!

Blinking back tears, Julien tightened his hold on Christine and began to rock her gently as he used to do when she came to him in the night after having a nightmare. She was shaking in his arms, and a sheen of sweat shone on her forehead. Her eyes were rapidly slipping in and out of focus.

"Am I going to die?" she asked as her breathing began to speed up again, sounding so small and frail that Etienne thought his heart might explode from the sorrow.

"Of course not, Christine. Of course not!" lied Julien at once. "You're going to stay here with us and you're going to recover!" René wondered if his little brother was trying to convince himself; rather than their sister.

"Does it hurt?" she dazedly asked René. The eldest sibling hurried to sit beside them on the bed.

"Does what hurt, sweetheart?" he asked, stroking her hair.

"Dying." Christine broke into another bout of wheezing sobs. Shocked, René exchanged a stricken glance at Etienne. What was he supposed to tell her?

"I…I don't expect so." he whispered softly. "I imagine all the pain will fade away. I think it will be just like putting the light out to go to sleep." He had no idea what he was really saying. He was just babbling the first nonsense that came into his head in the hope it would calm his sister. Seeing her wretch, he grabbed a basin just in time, as she was violently sick. It was tinged with blood.

"I didn't want to die!" Christine was rambling now, sobbing on Julien's shoulder and gulping for air. "I just wanted to grow up and get married so I could have children! I wasn't being greedy or anything! I just wanted to be normal!"

"Ssssh, we know." soothed Julien. "We know. No one thinks you're greedy, sweetheart. Please calm down."

But Christine was too far gone into delirious hysterics to be calmed; dazed by the fever and in agony from the blinding pain. She continued to cry convulsively in her brother's arms, clinging to Julien like there was no tomorrow. She was rapidly losing awareness of where she was and the only fact that could stick in her mind was that Julien was sitting on her bed beside her, and it was always Julien who could make everything go right again.

She began to shudder, as her struggle for breath became more violent. Even Julien's limited medical knowledge recognised that she was fading rapidly. He held on to her protectively; wanting her to spend her last moments knowing she was not alone. At that moment, he wanted more than anything to take the pain away from her and place it on himself. He'd never felt so helpless in his life.

Reading his brother's mind, René moved closer and wrapped his arms around both his siblings, as Etienne watched on, distraught.

"It's alright, Christine." whispered René, gently stroking her golden curls. "We're here. We're here…don't be afraid. You're safe with us."

Whether it was the effect of René's gentle words, or if she simply couldn't bear to fight anymore, Christine's heart had finally had enough pain. With a soft sigh, she went suddenly still in her brothers' arms, her arms still wrapped around Julien's neck, her head sliding against his throat.

"NO!" the broken, guttural sob echoed through the room, then was immediately stifled. Julien tightened his hold on Christine, shutting his eyes tightly, as if that would fight away the numb waves of emotional pain suddenly shooting through him.

"Julien." René placed a hand behind his brother's head. "_Petit_, she's gone now."

Julien didn't answer, hugging his sister against him. René looked stunned and his eyes were full of tears, but his first concern was for his youngest brother.

"Julien!" he called gently again, as he shifted to carefully remove Christine from his brother's embrace and lay her back on the bed. Swallowing a sob, he tenderly closed her eyes, before drawing Julien back into his embrace.

"She'll be free now, Julien." he whispered. "She's not in pain anymore. It's better this way."

"She's so young! This can't be better!" Julien's voice was strangled and too high. "How can she be dead? She…she's only fourteen!"

"I know, _petit_, I know. There is no justice." René held him tightly, speaking to him in the tones he had kept for him as a child, while a tearful Etienne sat down beside him and offered a comforting arm around his shoulders. "But you must let her go, Julien. She's at peace now. Let her go."

Julien didn't reply; he was struggling too much to swallow his tears. René sighed inwardly – this was his father's doing. He himself would have much preferred it if his brother had simply sobbed and let the grief flow through his system, rather than bottle it up and hide his feelings away. But Julien was Julien - stubborn and controlled - and he was so afraid of being labelled weak that it would take much persuading to finally get him to cry.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

When René summoned their parents to break the news, Julien's face once more became the marble façade Etienne knew so well. He'd seen his friend use it almost daily in Paris around those he was not close to. He'd seen it used to cover nervousness, embarrassment, relief…even happiness. It was sorrowful to witness.

So it seemed that René was the only Enjolras willing to show his grief. While Julien fought his emotions, the tears ran down René's face as he combed Christine's hair and washed the perspiration from her forehead. Louis and Antoine, however, stood there with bored, sneering expressions; clearly only there because propriety demanded it. They made not even the slightest pretence at grief. They whispered back and forth, rolling their eyes and snickering; showing no respect for their dead sister at all.

Madame Enjolras squeezed out a few obligatory tears, before immediately beginning to fuss over which gown her daughter would be laid out in, how her hair should be fixed and other such shallow nonsense. She simply _had _to look well, for the village would expect them to bury their daughter with elegance.

Her husband showed even less emotion. He looked grave, of course, but no different than he would have done at a formal meal. When René dared to wonder aloud at his family's insensitivity, he was coldly informed that 'Daughters are of very little consequence to their fathers. Merely a burden that must be tolerated until their dowry is paid.'

At this statement, Julien's face went unearthly white with fury. Quickly recognising the signs of an outburst, Etienne discreetly clapped his hand over Julien's mouth; glad that the rest of the family had their backs to them. Julien lowered his head again, his shoulders sagging. Etienne put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

When his mother began to prattle that it really was most unfortunate that Christine had died so soon, as a couple of the young officers from the neighbouring militia regiment had been quite keen on her and it might have been quite a good marriage; Julien could bear it no longer. He stormed out of the room and ran up the corridor, leaving Etienne to follow in his tracks.

The young medical student moved quietly up the corridor and slipped into his friend's room, knocking softly on the door. He found Julien sitting on his bed, his face hidden by shaking hands.

"Talk to me, _mon ami_." Etienne instructed softly, sitting down and putting his arm around him. Julien raised his head, but there was still no sign of tears, like the ones making tracks down Etienne's own face.

"Did you hear them?" demanded Julien angrily, his voice rough with emotion. "The way the talked about her! She isn't even cold yet and my mother is worrying over which dress she'll be buried in! They've even organised the bloody funeral! They couldn't even wait until she died! They act as though she was nothing!"

"I know, Julien. I heard them." Etienne was having trouble controlling his own emotions. "It was terrible. She deserved more respect than that."

"And my father, calling her a meaningless burden!" fumed Julien. "If it hadn't meant being thrown out before her funeral, I believe I might have punched him!"

"Julien, please…" pleaded Etienne, tightening his arm around his best friend. "Don't do anything rash! You'll get yourself in so much trouble!"

Julien just sighed, raising his eyes to meet Etienne's. From furious young man to lost little boy in one blink. Etienne just hugged him tighter, feeling a brotherly wish to protect him.

"It's almost one o'clock." he said quietly, taking his watch from his pocket and giving it a incredulous glance. "You should sleep, _mon ami_. You look exhausted."

"I don't think I could sleep!" Julien muttered sadly. "I just…I can't believe she's gone."

"I'll stay with you then." said Etienne softly. "I may not be able to help, but at least you know I'm here if you need me."

"Thank you." said Julien bleakly. "I'd appreciate the company."

And so they sat together well into the night, not saying much, but each simply glad of the other's comforting presence.

And still Julien didn't cry.


	7. The Funeral

CHAPTER 7 - THE FUNERAL

About dawn the next morning, Etienne began to stir. He was surprised that he had fallen asleep, and his neck was stiff from lying in the position he'd slumped across the bed in. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

Then he realised that he was alone.

"Julien?" he called blearily, looking around the room. No answer.

Etienne shot to his feet quickly, pushing his curly hair out of his eyes. Where on earth could Julien be? He hoped to God that he hadn't gone and done something stupid, but after the state he'd been in last night, anything was possible.

Etienne hurriedly exited the room and crept quietly down the corridor; not wishing to disturb anyone and get Julien into trouble. He made his way to Christine's room, wondering if Julien had gone there to try and face his grief.

But no, when he opened the door, there was no sign of his blond friend. Christine still lay on the bed, her face ghostly white but serene and peaceful. With her blond curls and rose bud mouth, she looked like a sleeping angel. Rene was sleeping in a chair beside her bed. He looked as if he'd only just succumbed to slumber, so Etienne had no wish to wake him and worry by him by informing him of his brother's disappearance.

He shut the door as quietly as he had opened it and then proceeded down the wide, sweeping staircase to the bottom floor. The young medical student called Julien's name softly as he looked into the parlour, the morning room, the dining room, the library and even Monsieur Enjolras's study. Once again, there was no sign.

Etienne was truly beginning to worry. _Surely_ Julien would not have returned to Paris without telling him? No, of course not, he'd never have left before Christine's funeral! But it where could he be? It was bucketing with rain – Etienne could hear it hammering against the windows – so it was doubtful that Julien had gone for a walk.

Unless….

With a sudden burst of insight, Etienne hurried to fetch a cape and hat. He pulled the garments on, before venturing outside into the torrential downpour.

The rain was coming down in sheets and hit him like a small force. How had the weather been able to change so suddenly? He held his cape about him tighter and shivered as he continued to hurry his way down the drive.

He continued to walk until he had left the Enjolras estate altogether and then proceeded in the direction of the church just outside the village. The ground was soft and damp; caking his boots in mud. He paid little attention to that – his mind was far more concerned with what he was going to do if Julien wasn't where he expected to find him.

The rain was falling even more heavily by the time Etienne reached the church. He was shivering slightly and his chestnut-brown queue was plastered to the back of his neck. He crossed the front of the church and made for the gate of the churchyard. His cold wet fingers fumbled with the catch of the large black iron gate. It swung open with a dull creak, leaving Etienne free to walk into the maze of grey granite and marble.

He knew which path to take. He and Julien had come here often in the years preceding their move to Paris, to pay their respects to a dead friend and brother. It was no great mystery as to which was the grave he would find Julien at.

He wound his way through the small cemetery to the far end, where all the richer people were buried; their gravestones embellished with angels and gold letters. He continued to walk until he saw a flash of blond hair and he let out a breath he hadn't realised that he'd been holding.

He positively ran around the remaining stones until he came to a sombre, oblong grey stone, on which the gold letters shone like a beacon in the dull rain.

_Here lies _

_Nicolas Enjolras_

_1807-1821_

_A dear son and brother_

_Sadly Missed_

And in front of this stone, kneeling on the ground with his head bent, was Julien.

He was wearing no cape, no hat; not even a jacket. He was still wearing the simple white shirt and black trousers he had worn the night before. He sat there, gazing at the gravestone as if in a trance, seemingly unaware he was not alone. With horror, Etienne noticed that he was absolutely soaked to the skin; his white shirt clamped and sticking to his body, showing every muscle, every contour of his torso. His blond hair, some of it falling out of its neat queue, was darkened by the water and stuck to the side of his face and the back of his head. He was shivering constantly.

"Julien." Etienne approached slowly, and knelt beside him. "Julien, can you hear me, _mon ami_?" Julien turned to face him, the pain in his eyes staggeringly deep. He looked dazed and pale. Etienne wondered if he had gone into shock.

"I just wanted to talk to him." he said simply, his voice barely more than a murmur. "I miss him."

"I know you do." Etienne nodded gently. "So do I. How long have you been out here?"

"I couldn't sleep. I needed to get out. I…I can't remember." replied Julien mechanically, his teeth chattering violently. Etienne reached for his hand and started at the icy touch of cold flesh.

"Good God!" he breathed anxiously. "You're freezing! Julien, you've got to come back now!"

"They must be so cold out here." whispered Julien sadly, shivering as the rain ran down his face. "I can't bear to think of them being so alone."

"Julien, please! You're going to get pneumonia!" pleaded Etienne, trying in vain to chafe some warmth into the hand he was holding. "Come back with me now."

Julien just nodded, unable to speak, and got to his feet. He stumbled, his legs cold and numb after kneeling for so long. Etienne put a supportive arm around him and they made their way slowly back to the grand manor on his father's estate as the rain continued to pour down around them.

Thankfully, no one else was astir when the two of them went into the hall, leaving a trail of mud and water as they walked. Julien winced uncomfortably as the heat of the house caused his frozen skin to flush and sting. Etienne pulled him up to his bedroom and ordered him to change and sit by the fire, before heading to his own room for a change of clothes.

When he returned, he found Julien obediently sitting in front of the fire, in dry clothes. He seemed more himself; his eyes were less distant and he was rubbing some warmth into his arms. He looked up as Etienne entered and went vividly red with shame. He couldn't believe he'd let his best friend see him act like that!

"You know I don't think any worse of you!" scolded Etienne, reading his thoughts, as he sat down beside him.

"I didn't mean to drag you out at this time in the morning!" Julien continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I…I don't know what came over me."

"You're grieving, Julien. That's all. And you know I did not mind" explained Etienne. It greatly saddened him to see the way his friend was afraid of being judged. For all his immense intelligence in areas of politics, law and history, Julien could be staggeringly naïve when it came to basic emotions. "Just let it out, _mon frère_. I cannot bear to see you suffering like this."

"I can't." Julien whispered, the strain in his voice very evident. "I want to, but I just…can't!"

"That's alright. There's no hurry." said Etienne, sitting down beside him and gathering him into a fraternal embrace. "But when you're ready, I'll be here for you."

"Thank you. I don't know why you put up with me."

"Because I would be exceedingly bored otherwise!" said Etienne affectionately, leaning his dark head against Julien's. "And because I couldn't do without you!"

OOO

The funeral was a tough affair, handled differently by everyone. Louis and Antoine whispered back and forth during the service, paying no attention whatsoever. Monsieur Enjolras was as cold and detached as ever, while his wife was slyly looking round to see who was all in attendance.

Doctor and Madame Combeferre were all there, with their four daughters; all of whom were very sad to have lost their friend. A couple of officers from the neighbouring regiment were also there. Etienne could have sworn he heard one of them whisper 'what a damned waste!'.

Rene had his head bowed respectfully, tears falling silently as he mourned. Etienne let his own tears fall without check as he sat next to Julien, keeping a close eye on his friend's actions. But Julien's face was blank and pale; so completely different from the heart stricken child who's wept for his brother eight years ago. The ghostly pallor of his skin was highlighted by the dark circled under his eyes. He looked utterly exhausted.

Etienne watched sorrowfully as Julien went forward to help bear her coffin to the churchyard and subsequently lowering it into the ground. The blond's hands were shaking – but he was still unable to show his grief on the outside.

OOO

Several of the more high-class attendees accompanied the family back to the house and sat as a sombre little gathering in the main parlour.

"How is Julien taking it?" Doctor Combeferre asked his son.

"Not very well, Papa." Etienne replied sadly, with an accusing look at Monsieur Enjolras. "He still hasn't cried and the grief is tearing him apart."

"Would you like me to talk to him?" offered the auburn-haired doctor kindly.

"No, thank you, Papa. He is already ashamed of himself for showing even a little pain this morning. I'll stick with him tonight and tomorrow and see if I can get him to open up. You know how he is, after the way his father berated him when Nicolas died, he thinks if someone sees him cry they'll label him as weak."

"Alright then, I'll leave you to it." said Doctor Combeferre. "But if you think he needs my help, don't be afraid to drag him over to me."

"I won't." Etienne smiled.

"Where is Julien, for that matter?" asked his father suddenly. Etienne looked round and his heart began to race.

"I…he was here when we came back." he gasped. "I'd better go and find him, Papa. He shouldn't be alone this evening."

Etienne hurried out of the room and almost ran into Yvette, one of the maids.

"Yvette, have you seen Julien?" he asked urgently.

"Oh, Master Etienne, I'm glad I found you." she gasped anxiously. "Master Julien is in the dining room! I think he's ill! Please will you go to him, he wouldn't let me call for his father."

"I'll go to him. But Yvette, do not pass on this information to anyone else, please." Etienne requested quietly, and he hurried away.

He ran into the dining room and found Julien slumped against the wall, his whole body shaking; his face hidden by his hands.

"Julien! What's the matter?" he demanded anxiously. "Are you ill?"

"I don't know why Grantaire does this!" said Julien in a slurred voice. "It doesn't make the pain go away!"

And with that, Julien simply collapsed into Etienne's arms, exceedingly drunk.


	8. Getting to grips with grief

**First off, I'm sooo sorry for the delay. Only just got my laptop back a couple of days ago, so this is the first I've been able to write. Add to that we've just finished fresher's week and I've been in a state to rival Grantaire for about nine days...but we won't mention that, lol.**

**Secondly, I apologise for the grammar and spelling mistakes in the last chapter. I did it on the morning I moved out and literally posted it like five minutes before I went out the door.**

CHAPTER EIGHT: GETTING TO GRIPS WITH GRIEF

As Julien fell against his chest, Etienne wrapped his arms around his drunken friend. He looked so unlike himself. The ever-alert blue eyes were glazed and only half in focus; his marble-white face was unnaturally flushed and glowing; his hair was falling out of his neat blond queue and hanging in his eyes.

"Julien, how much have you had to drink?" asked Etienne nervously, raising Julien's chin so that his eyes met his. He knew that the blond had no head for alcohol.

"It didn't work!" Julien choked sadly, his words slow and unclear. "I thought it might make the pain stop, but it didn't work!"

"I know." Etienne whispered, drawing him into his arms and hugging him tighter. "I know. Nothing will make it go away."

"I mean what the hell was God thinking?" Julien cried angrily, sitting back abruptly, his eyes over-bright. "What the hell was he playing at?"

"Julien, sssh!" begged Etienne, worried that his friend's voice would travel through to the parlor. "They'll hear you!"

"I don't care!" said Julien, the influence of drink destroying his normal control over his emotions. "I just want to know why this had to happen! I lost Nicolas, now I've lost Christine. He could have taken Louis, he could have taken Antoine, he could have taken Marie. Christ knows he could have had my parents! Why did he have to take the ones I cared about? Why did he have to take the only people I love?"

With a guttural sob, Julien buried his face in his hands and burst into sobs; gut-wrenching, heart-breaking sobs that shook his entire body and echoed throughout the room. Painful as they were, Etienne was relieved beyond belief to hear them.

Hoping beyond hope that Julien's cries would have gone unheard, Etienne simply wrapped his arms around his friend once more and held him close. Julien buried his face in Etienne's shoulder and continued to sob, crying like there was no tomorrow. Gone was the marble-faced statue who showed no emotion. In his place was a young soul in turmoil, struggling to cope with his raging emotions and losing the battle with his grief.

"It's alright, _mon ami_." Etienne whispered, running a gentle hand over the messy blond hair. "It's alright to cry for them. You're only human, Julien!"

"She was so young!" Julien cried, his body wracking with sobs. "She was only a child! How is that just? How the bloody hell is that just?"

"It's not." Etienne felt his own throat becoming tight with tears. "It's not just, Julien. But we can't help it, _mon ami_. We can't change the world, not matter how much you wish to."

"I'm sorry." said Julien, fiercely scrubbing at his eyes. "I'm not meaning to act like this. I hate being like this! I'm not weak! I don't want to be weak. But she was my sister. And I _miss_ her!"

"Of course you do." Etienne could feel the tears soaking through the shoulder of his shirt.

"I miss her too. But she's safe now, Julien. She cannot suffer any more pain now."

"I know." Julien's frenzied sobs made his slurred words even harder to understand. "And I should be happy about that, yes? But how am I supposed to say goodbye when I don't want her to go?"

"You have to let her go, Julien." Etienne whispered, tears slipping down his cheeks. "Nothing can bring her back. You have to let go."

"I was supposed to look after her. She was my sister." Julien wept, choking on his sobs. "I didn't see her for more than a year, and by the time I got here, I couldn't do anything to help her. I had to watch her die, Etienne! I promised I would always protect her. I broke my word!"

"There was nothing you could have done, Julien!" Etienne told him firmly, clasping his shoulders. "Rene is one of the best surgeons in France. If he could not help her, no one could. You cannot hold yourself responsible."

"I hate being so helpless!"

This gave way to another manic bout of sobs; so violent that Etienne feared his friend would make himself sick. But he was finally letting his grief out; the grief for his sister and the old grief for his brother that had been hidden away for far too long; eight years of pain and bereavement tumbling out in a frenzy. Suddenly, he retched and clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Come on, maybe we should take you upstairs." said the curly-haired medical student, getting to his feet. "You don't have a head for drink."

"I just wanted…the pain…to go away!" Julien sobbed. "But…it didn't work! It didn't go away!"

"You can't make it vanish." Etienne soothed him. "Nothing will ever make it vanish. But it's going to get easier. It will stop hurting so much, but you won't make it vanish."

As the sobs subsided for a moment, he pulled the shaking young man to his feet. Julien's legs buckled beneath him, the effects of alcohol fast taking over. He'd never drunk more than three glasses of wine in his life; a whole bottle of brandy was more than he could handle.

It was a laborious task, getting the drunken student to the top of the wide, sweeping staircase, but somehow Etienne eventually managed it. Twice, he thought Julien was going to be sick all over the carpet, but thankfully they got to the door of his bedroom without any further incident, other than Julien stumbling against the wall about six times, blinded by tears and thoroughly inebriated.

Etienne kept an arm firmly about Julien's waist as he tried to get the door open; but it proved to be quite difficult. Julien was rapidly losing track of where he was and what was happening – the effects of far too much alcohol on an empty stomach.

Just as he was beginning to despair of ever getting the heavy oak door open, they were accosted by René. He relieved Etienne of Julien's weight and supported his younger brother while the door was opened.

"_Mon dieu, petit_." he whispered despairingly. "You don't do anything by halves, do you?" As Etienne stood aside, he gently guided Julien through to his bedroom.

"How much has he had to drink?" he asked Etienne anxiously. Etienne shrugged.

"I'm not sure. He vanished after we got back from Christine's funeral. I found him like this in the drawing room. He thought it would make the pain go away."

"Does my father know he's drunk?" asked Rene, quickly. Etienne shook his head and Rene hurried to shut the door.

"Say nothing to anyone else." he instructed, as he began to divest his younger brother of his waistcoat and shirt. "I'll stay here with him until he falls asleep. My father will make his life hell if he sees him like this. He's cruel enough to him already."

By this stage, Julien was so far lost to inebriation that he could barely stand. Between them, they managed to get him into his nightclothes and get him into bed. With a queasy groan, the young blond buried his head in the billow and curled up against some invisible force.

"You can go back downstairs if you wish, Etienne." said the eldest of the Enjolras brothers, his own red eyes the evidence of the grief that was so viciously consuming his younger brother. "I'll stay here with him until morning."

"No, it's alright. They will miss you before they will miss me." Etienne replied. "I promised I'd help him through this. I'll stay with him. You go back downstairs."

"If you're sure." said Rene worriedly, casting another anxious glance at his hiccupping younger brother. "Come and fetch me if he takes a turn for the worst."

"I will." Etienne promised, sitting down in the chair by Julien's bed. "They'll miss you if you don't return downstairs, then they'll come to look for you."

As Rene returned to the somber gathering downstairs, Etienne turned a compassion-filled glance to his prostate friend. An unfocused gaze met him in return.

"'Tienne?" he mumbled indistinctly, his eyes filling with tears again. Etienne leaned over and took Julien's hand.

"What is it?" he asked kindly. The tears began to overflow out of the ice-blue eyes.

"I'm never going to see her again, am I?" he asked sadly. Etienne shook his head gently.

"I'm afraid not." he whispered softly. "She's dead, _mon ami_. You cannot bring her back. You must let her go."

"I don't want to let her go." the child-like voice tugged at Etienne's heart. "I didn't want her to leave. I miss her, Etienne. I miss her!"

"I know Julien." Etienne moved closer and gently pushed the blond hair out of his friend's eyes. "But you need to let the grief out, _mon ami_. You can't keep it hidden."

"I feel sick." Julien groaned, burying his head in the pillow. Etienne quickly reached for the washbowl and stationed it beside the bed.

"How much did you drink?" he asked curiously.

"I can't remember. A lot." Julien slurred. "It was brandy. It felt good for a moment, but the pain came back."

"Drink won't solve your problems, Julien." Etienne told him gently. "You can't run away from it. You need to face it, or it will just continue to haunt you."

"Sometimes I think I don't understand anything." Julien muttered despondently.

"Julien, for such an intelligent boy, you can be so naïve sometimes." Etienne told him with affectionate patience. "Everyone cries for the ones they love. No one will think you weak because you miss your sister or your brother. I wish you could understand that."

"I just…I mean…I…" Julien broke into sobs again and turned his face away to hide his tears. Etienne sighed and moved to sit on the bed so he could wrap his arms around him again. Julien wrapped his arms around him and clung to him desperately.

"Move over." Etienne instructed gently, and shifted so that he could lie next to his friend, and comfort him in his despair.

They stayed that way for a while; and it was almost an hour before Julien finally cried himself into a fitful slumber. But Etienne remained awake to watch over him for a long time afterwards.

**This was NOT meant to be slash. Please don't read it like that! **

**Please review.**


	9. Lifting the Burden

**First of all, I'm soooooo sorry for the delay. This chapter just would NOT be written. I struggled for weeks to get it set out, so here it finally is.**

CHAPTER NINE - LIFTING THE BURDEN

When Julien came to himself the next morning, the first thing he registered was the blinding pain in his head. He'd never felt anything so intensely painful in his entire life. Blearily, he fought to find some memories of the night before, but they completely eluded him.

The next thing he realised was that he was not on his own. His head was pillowed on someone's shoulder and there was a pair of strong arms firmly around him. Only one person could care enough to be here for him in his despair.

"'Tienne?" he murmured, realising that his voice was hoarse and cracked. Then he winced as another spasm of pain shot through him.

"Mmmh?" Etienne stirred, then ran a gentle hand over Julien's smooth blond hair. "Are you feeling the after-affects, _mon ami_?"

"I feel awful!" groaned Julien, laying his head back down on Etienne's shoulder before he realised what he was doing. Once he realised, he blushed vividly and tried to pull away. Etienne just smiled and held onto him.

"Just relax will you?" he said softly. "In five minutes, you're not going to be so eager to move, trust me. Just take it easy for a moment."

"I'm sorry." mumbled Julien. "You must have had no sleep. I'm sorry I made such a fool of myself!"

"Don't be so silly." Etienne chided him. "Julien, you know I'll always be here for you! I just wish you could talk to me instead of shutting your heart away!"

"I just…" Enjolras suddenly leaned over the mattress and vomited into the strategically-placed wash-basin. "Oh Christ…"

"This, my friend, is what it feels like to be hungover." said Combeferre gently. "Now, come. Just talk to me."

"I don't know why I did that last night." Julien replied in a small voice. "I don't even like alcohol. I just had to find a way to make it stop."

"You could have come to me, you know." Etienne chided him softly. "Or to Rene. You need someone with you at a time like this, _mon frere_, you can't get through it alone!"

"I should be able to, though!" protested Julien groggily. "I should be able to control my emotions."

"Why?" asked Etienne softly. "They do you no discredit, my friend, they simply make you human! All you are showing, Julien, is that you have a heart."

Whether it was these words, the gentle embrace, or simply the effect of the hangover, Julien buried his face in Etienne's shoulder and started to cry. Finally.

Etienne shut his eyes momentarily in relief and pulled him closer, listening to his friend sobbing; not through drink, not through anger, but simply through grief. Julien cried uncontrollably for a very long time because he'd lost his sister, because he's lost his brother and because he'd never had parents there to lose.

Etienne could hardly blame him. Julien was so used to being looked up to, to being treated as a leader, to being looked to for guidance, that he had forgotten what it felt like to feel vulnerable. He had simply got used to putting other people's feelings before his own, but at a time like this, his own emotions had simply refused to be quelled.

And still the young blond cried, in the security of knowing that Etienne was there; that his friend thought no less of him and would still be there to stand by his side when they returned to Paris. Speaking of which…

"I want to go back to Paris as soon as possible." he said through his sobs. Etienne was hardly surprised. He doubted very much that any of his family, save Rene of course, would make Julien feel the slightest bit welcome for the remainder of his stay.

"If that's what you want." he nodded supportively. "That's what we'll do."

It would be for the best, too. At least that way Julien would be surrounded by the amis – people who genuinely cared about him – instead of his cold-hearted family.

As for Julien himself, his mind was racing; not the best of combinations with a spinning head. He could remember very little of the night before, but he knew that he had wept like a child. He had cried inconsolably for what seemed like hours, but Etienne had never left him, never laughed at him, never sneered at him. So was he truly not weak for expressing his emotions? It seemed to be that way…

"Julien, trust me, I do not think you are weak or childish." said Etienne, once more showing his uncanny knack of reading his friend's mind. "I would think less of you if you hadn't cried, believe me. That you weep for her just shows that you loved her. Louis and Antoine don't cry because they don't care. Would you really prefer to hold back your emotions and be like them?"

"No, I suppose not." replied Julien, his sobbing diminishing now to hitched breaths and occasional hiccups. He looked so young like that.

"It does not make you worthless that you cried for her. Or that you cried for Nicolas." said Etienne again, determined to get his message across. "Julien, do you honestly think _I_ would refrain from shedding tears if something happened to you?"

"Not really." Julien confessed, blinking as the room spun a little.

"Of course I wouldn't. I would be distraught, let me tell you! So does that make me some weak emotional child, or does it mean instead that I care about u and love you like a brother?"

Julien hid his face again, moved to more tears by Etienne's words.

"Why are you always right?" he asked in a quavering voice. Etienne smiled and leaned his head against the blond one.

"Because I am. It's as simple as that!" he laughed, relaxing as Julien hugged him in return. "Do you feel any better now?"

"I feel awful!" Julien groaned. "But I do feel a little better, I suppose. My chest does not feel like it's going to explode anymore. That sounds juvenile, but…"

"No, it doesn't." Etienne reassured him. "I know what you're trying to say. You've let the weight off your chest. You let it out when you cried."

"I still miss her." said Julien quietly. "But I think I am happy she is at peace now. She will be with Nicolas. He will look after her."

"Of course he will, _mon ami._" said Etienne softly. "Of course he will."

ooo

"Are you ready?" asked Etienne, hauling Julien to his feet and slinging his own bag over his shoulder.

"_Oui_. Let's go home." the blond agreed, gathering his coat and satchel.

"Are you going to tell your parents that you're leaving?" the curly-haired medical student enquired. Julien shook his head.

"No." he answered quietly. "I have said all I ever want to say to them now. I only came here to say goodbye to Christine…and I've done that now. There is nothing to keep me here. I'd far rather be in Paris with the others."

"Me too." said Etienne comfortingly. "But we'd best be heading off soon if we intend to catch that coach."

"I couldn't agree more. Let's just get out of here!" Julien shook his hair out of his eyes and they headed for the door…

To be confronted by Louis and Antoine.

"Leaving so soon, little brother?" sniggered Louis scornfully. "With no word to Papa? Dear me, your manners _are_ slipping!"

"Just get out of my way!" snarled Julien. "I've nothing to say to you!"

"And just where did the two of you disappear to last night?" leered Antoine, ignoring him. "Did you go up to bed and writhe in each other's arms? Did you let Etienne kiss your tears away, you pathetic little weed?"

Julien went pure white with fury. As one, he and Etienne brought both his sniggering brothers to the floor with one punch. The identical idiots hit the ground with blood spurting from their noses.

"And this…" said Julien, kicking Louis in the stomach. "Is for what you said about Christine!"

And so the two students strode down the stairs together.

ooo

"Leaving without saying goodbye, _petit_?"

Shamefaced, Julien started and swung round to face his eldest brother.

"Forgive me, Rene, but I really have to leave. I've had enough of this place. I just want to go home to Paris."

"Julien, stay another couple of days!" pleaded Rene, gazing worriedly at the pale face of his younger brother. "Please, you cannot be fit to travel!"

"I am fit, Rene, I assure you." said Julien unhappily. He felt slightly ashamed of himself for running away like this and leaving his elder brother – whom he had not seen for a year. But he simply could not bear to spend another day at home.

"I'll look after him, Rene. I promise." said Etienne and Rene was quick to notice the look of understanding that flashed between his little brother and his friend.

Julien looked better than he had done yesterday. Though his face was white, his eyes still bearing a lingering red from his morning's weeping; he was no longer dazed and withdrawn. It seemed like the burden of grief had been lifted from his heart.

Reluctantly, Rene gave in with a sigh.

"All right. If that's what you want, I won't stop you." he conceded. "Write to me and let me know you got there safely…and keep out of trouble!"

"I will." said Julien quietly, casting his eyes about his home. He doubted he would return again. There was nothing left to return for now. "When you are next in Paris, come by our rooms. I'll be glad to see you. You know you're always welcome."

"I know. I do understand why you're doing this. I just wish I could be there for you." said his brother, clasping his shoulder. Julien actually smiled.

"Don't worry." he said. "I've got Etienne."

**Finis**


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